it's like I'm, paranoid, looking over my back

I asked for a bulletin board for Christmas.  It's an idea board, really, because I rip pictures out of magazines (Vogue and Harper's, lol), and now it is up opposite my desk in my room and I LOVE IT.  When I was in middle school I covered the walls entirely (and I mean entirely) in pictures of various sizes, and when I lived in the basement of this house for a while I put up pictures down there as well that looked the way I imagined my novel's setting would look.  But I no longer like taping things to walls, and I like to change things, so voila.  It kind of looks like an altar now, but that's fine.

Movies (received as presents because I'm already obsessed with both of them):

• Candyman (I could write a thesis on how this is the most perfect horror movie evar, but I don't want to end up like Helen)
• Mulholland Drive (this movie has grown on me considerably since I first watched it when it came out)

Books (paid for partially with present money):

• The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson (already read)
• We Have Always Lived In The Castle, Shirley Jackson (reading now: love it already, but no surprise)
• Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, Tom Franklin (don't remember where I saw it first; sold by the Amazon excerpt)
• A Good and Happy Child, Justin Evans (recommended by handful_ofdust; sold by the Amazon excerpt)

I really want to make it my winter goal to read Gravity's Rainbow.  Is this suicide?